Frontier America

by William W. Johnstone

“What do you think, Sergeant O’Connor?”

  “What do I think?” O’Connor repeated. “I think we ought to clap that damn redskin in irons, drag him back to the fort, sit him down with that treaty in front of him, and tell him to sign it or we’ll blow his brains out. Sir.”

  Davidson cocked an eyebrow at Jamie and Tyler, smirked, and said, “That does sound like an extremely effective way of accomplishing our mission, doesn’t it?”

  “You do that and you’ll have an Indian war on your hands,” Jamie told him bluntly. “And the blood of every soldier and every Crow who dies will be on your hands, too, Lieutenant.”

  “I believe we’d be better served by using restraint,” Tyler added. “Broken Pine seemed like a reasonable man. If we treat him reasonably—”

  “Riders coming, Sergeant!” one of the guards shouted to O’Connor.

  The four men beside the wagon turned to look as other members of the troop responded to the warning as well. Clutching their rifles, men hurried to the side of the temporary camp where two riders on Indian ponies were approaching.

  “Better order the men to hold their fire,” Jamie said as his keen eyes took in the situation. “Those fellas look like they’re bringing us some meat.”

  Davidson hesitated for a second, then nodded to O’Connor, who bellowed, “Hold your fire!” The sergeant looked like giving that order put a bad taste in his mouth. The troopers who had raised their rifles lowered them, although some seemed reluctant to do so.

  As the riders came closer, everyone could see that they were dragging a couple of buffalo hides piled with haunches cut from the animals’ carcasses. Jamie recognized one of the warriors as Hawk That Soars, Preacher’s half-Absaroka son.

  Hawk lifted a hand in the universal signal for peaceful intentions as he and his companion came to a stop. If being faced with dozens of well-armed soldiers who might be a little trigger-happy worried him, Hawk gave no sign of it.

  “As a gesture of friendship, Chief Broken Pine of the Crow has sent us with this fresh meat, so that your men may enjoy it,” Hawk said in a calm, steady voice. “Jamie MacCallister and Lieutenant Tyler will join us in the morning when we start back to the Crow village. The other soldiers will follow at a distance of no less than half a mile.”

  Davidson stalked forward and said, “I will decide how we proceed. I am First Lieutenant Edgar Davidson, and this is my command.”

  Jamie eased up behind Davidson and said quietly, “Might be a good idea to thank them for those buffalo haunches, Lieutenant. That’s the polite thing to do.”

  Davidson’s head snapped around toward him. The lieutenant glared for a second, then turned back to Hawk and the other Indian.

  “Tell Broken Pine that we appreciate the fresh meat. When we reach your village, I would be most happy and honored to sit down and discuss matters with your chief. Do you understand what I’m saying? Can you convey this message to your chief?”

  That was a ridiculous question, thought Jamie. Hawk obviously understood and spoke English as well as any of them. Davidson was just trying to demonstrate his superiority—and his contempt for the Indians.

  Hawk didn’t even acknowledge the veiled insult. He just nodded and said, “I understand and will tell Broken Pine.” Jamie was impressed by the young warrior’s restraint and dignity.

  Hawk turned his pony, as did the other warrior, and they galloped off, leaving the fresh meat on the buffalo hides lying on the ground.

  Davidson snapped his fingers and then gestured toward the hides.

  “Corporal Mackey, deal with that!” he ordered.

  “Yes, sir!” Mackey responded as he hurried forward.

  Davidson looked at Jamie and asked, “How long will it take us to reach the Crow village from here?”

  Jamie considered for a moment, then said, “Might get there day after tomorrow, especially since we can follow Broken Pine’s party and won’t have to hunt for the village.”

  “Good. I’m ready to conclude this mission successfully.”

  Jamie hoped it turned out to be that easy . . . but he wasn’t going to hold his breath waiting for that to happen.

  CHAPTER 21

  The Crow hunting party made camp that night about half a mile from the army camp and enjoyed fresh buffalo steaks. In the morning, Preacher swung up on Horse’s back and rode to the wagons, accompanied by Dog.

  He heard the sentries calling out that a rider was approaching. A couple of dragoons walked out to challenge him, but it was just a formality. One of the troopers said, “Lieutenant Tyler told us you’d probably show up this morning, sir. You’re alone?”

  “I reckon so,” Preacher replied dryly. In this flat, open terrain, anybody else on horseback would have been spotted easily.

  The guards waved him past. He saw Jamie MacCallister’s tall, brawny figure standing next to one of the wagons with the two officers and headed in that direction.

  Jamie raised a hand in greeting as Preacher reined in.

  “I hope Hawk told Broken Pine how much we appreciate that fresh meat,” Jamie said. “It was mighty good.”

  Preacher dismounted and said, “The Crow were happy to share. They’re hospitable folks.”

  Lieutenant Davidson sniffed. “You talk about them almost as if they were human, sir.”

  Preacher’s jaw tightened. He wasn’t accustomed to holding back his annoyance, but he made an effort to do so now because if the fragile truce were to be shattered, some of his friends among the Crow might well die.

  Dog didn’t have the same sort of restraint. The big cur instinctively disliked Davidson and displayed his teeth in a snarl accompanied by a low growl.

  “I don’t like having a wolf in camp,” snapped Davidson. “Remove it, sir, or I’ll have it dealt with.”

  “I ain’t exactly sure what you mean by that, Lieutenant, but I can do some dealin’ with, too, if I’m pushed to it.”

  Davidson stiffened. Lieutenant Tyler stepped in and said, “Jamie and I are ready to go, Preacher. I’m looking forward to riding with the Crow and getting to know them better.”

  “That’s fine.” Preacher jerked his head in a nod. “Let’s go. Time’s a-wastin’.”

  Jamie and Tyler had their horses ready. They all mounted up, and Preacher led the way back to where the Crow hunting party was breaking camp.

  Broken Pine greeted the two white men in friendly enough fashion, although some of the other warriors were clearly wary of them. Big Thunder, however, strode up to Jamie, crossed his arms over his massive chest, and regarded the frontiersman solemnly and intently. Jamie just stood there and returned the huge warrior’s scrutiny.

  Finally, Big Thunder said in English, “You . . . big man.”

  “So are you,” Jamie replied.

  “You fight?”

  “When I have to.”

  Big Thunder reached out and prodded Jamie’s chest with a stiff finger as he said, “In village, you fight Big Thunder.”

  “That would be you?”

  Big Thunder didn’t seem to understand the question. Preacher, holding back a grin, said, “Yeah, he’s Big Thunder, all right. Don’t take what he’s sayin’ the wrong way, though, Jamie. He ain’t mad at you. He just loves to get in a tussle with somebody, and there ain’t many among his people who can actually give him a good fight.”

  “Well, that’s a relief to hear,” said Jamie. “I wasn’t sure I wanted a fella as big as a mountain to be mad at me.” He looked at Big Thunder again and went on, “We fight . . . maybe.”

  Big Thunder grinned happily and thumped a ham-like hand against Jamie’s arm so powerfully that Jamie lurched a little to the side.

  “I reckon that’s his way of sayin’ he’s lookin’ forward to it,” Preacher drawled.

  “Yeah, well, I can’t say as I am,” Jamie muttered. “But I reckon it might be pretty good sport, at that.”

  A few minutes later, the men were mounted and on their way. Several of the ponies dragged buffalo hides wrapped tightly around
sections of meat taken from the shaggy beasts the hunters had killed. The meat had been lightly smoked overnight, enough to preserve it until they reached the village, where most of it would be cooked and the rest made into jerky and pemmican.

  A small group consisting of Preacher, Hawk, Jamie, Lieutenant Tyler, and Broken Pine led the way, with Dog trotting out in front of them. Big Thunder trailed closely behind them, and then came the other warriors, including the wounded Swift Water. The bullet had passed through his side, leaving clean wounds in and out, and luckily had not broken a rib or damaged anything internal as far as Preacher could tell. The wounds had been cleaned and packed with herbs, and although Swift Water was uncomfortable riding, he was able to manage.

  Jamie looked around at the man he had shot and said quietly to Preacher, “I sure am sorry about what happened to that fella. At the time, though, I didn’t have any way of knowing what was going on.”

  “It’s Sergeant O’Connor’s fault,” Preacher said. “He’s the one who got spooked for no good reason and started the whole thing. I made sure Swift Water knows that. He understands, and so does Broken Pine.” The mountain man chuckled. “I don’t reckon you and Swift Water will ever be good friends, but at least he don’t want to lift your hair.”

  “And I’m mighty glad of that,” Jamie said.

  * * *

  The mountains were already easily visible in the distance. They didn’t really seem to draw any closer during the day, but Jamie knew better. Like any experienced frontiersman, he had a knack for knowing how far he still had to go before reaching a destination. By the time the Crow hunting party made camp that evening, Jamie was confident they would reach the foothills where their village was located the next day.

  “Lieutenant Tyler and I had better ride on back to the army column and report to Lieutenant Davidson,” he told Preacher.

  All day long, the wagons and the mounted dragoons had been traveling half a mile behind the Crow. Jamie had checked on them several times to make sure Davidson wasn’t crowding the Indians. So far, Davidson was cooperating. Jamie hoped that would continue until they reached the Crow village, but the arrogant young lieutenant was too unpredictable for Jamie to feel confident about that.

  “You want me to come with you?” Preacher asked now.

  Jamie shook his head and said, “I don’t reckon that’s necessary. Lieutenant Davidson will probably be annoyed enough to see me.”

  “I’m not sure why you agreed to come along in the first place with that stiff-necked little—”

  “His commander’s a friend of mine,” Jamie explained. “He’s been given the job of getting Broken Pine back to the fort so he can meet with those fellas from Washington and sign a treaty with them.”

  “I’m not sure Broken Pine’s gonna understand all that,” Preacher said with a shake of his head. “To him, givin’ his word ought to be more’n enough. That piece of paper ain’t gonna mean a thing.”

  “Maybe he’ll see that it’s important to our side, even if it’s not to his.”

  “Maybe,” Preacher said, shrugging.

  The cooking fire Corporal Mackey had built was a large blob of orange light in the gathering darkness as Jamie and Lieutenant Tyler approached on horseback. Jamie hailed the camp as sentries moved out to meet them. The guards saluted Tyler and passed the two riders on.

  Lieutenant Davidson was deep in conversation with Sergeant O’Connor as Jamie and Tyler rode up. That sight caused a faint stirring of worry inside Jamie. There was certainly nothing unusual about a commanding officer talking to one of his noncommissioned officers, but Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if the two of them were hatching some new form of troublemaking.

  Tyler dismounted and saluted Davidson. Jamie just swung down from the saddle.

  “We’re reporting in to see if you have any new orders for us,” Tyler said.

  “Would it matter if I did?” said Davidson. “You seem more inclined to take orders from those painted savages than from your superior officers, Lieutenant.”

  Jamie said, “None of Broken Pine’s bunch are wearing war paint, Lieutenant.” He added pointedly, “You’d know about it if they were.”

  “Be that as it may . . . You’ve been traveling with them all day, Tyler. Do you have any sense that they’re leading us into a trap?”

  Tyler frowned and stared. He said, “What? Why in the world would you think that?”

  O’Connor said, “It’s just the sort of thing hostiles’d do, ain’t it? They call ’em that for a reason, Lieutenant.”

  O’Connor’s sneering tone seemed to rub Tyler the wrong way. Jamie didn’t blame him for that. It would have had the same effect on him.

  Tyler swallowed that irritation, though, and said, “I’m confident that Broken Pine isn’t planning any sort of ambush. He’s just heading back to his village, and he’s allowing us to come with him. That’s what we wanted, isn’t it?”

  “Perhaps,” Davidson said. “But there’s going to be a heavy guard tonight, just in case those redskins get the idea of trying to murder us in our sleep.”

  Jamie said, “You don’t need to worry about that. If a Crow wants to kill you, he’ll come at you straight ahead.”

  “No, they’re sneaky devils,” O’Connor insisted, shaking his head. “I’ve heard plenty of stories about those savages.”

  “And I’ve lived among ’em,” Jamie said. “I reckon I know them better than you do, mister.”

  “Regardless of that,” Davidson said, “I don’t trust them. Keep a close eye on them, MacCallister. You, too, Tyler. I warn you, I will protect this troop to the best of my ability. In the case of a trap, if that means leaving the two of you to the dubious mercies of those savages, then so be it.”

  “I don’t reckon I’ll lose any sleep worrying about what Broken Pine and the Crow might do,” Jamie said. “If there’s any trouble, I figure it’ll come from other sources.”

  Davidson flushed, obviously understanding what Jamie meant by that. Jamie didn’t care. Let the lieutenant take offense if he wanted to.

  Jamie went on, “I’m gonna go see what Corporal Mackey’s got cooking. Smells like buffalo stew to me, and I’m ready for it.”

  * * *

  The Crow hunting party entered the foothills by the middle of the next day and began following the stream that ran down from the mountains to join the Sweetwater. Jamie rode back and forth between the hunting party and the army troop to make sure the wagons were able to make it through the more rugged terrain. Corporal Mackey was a skillful driver and had no trouble with his team, and the trooper handling the other wagon was doing a good job, too.

  While Jamie was with the hunting party, he and Lieutenant Tyler spent some of the time talking to Broken Pine about the proposed treaty. Jamie knew that Lieutenant Davidson wouldn’t like that—Davidson felt like he was in charge of the negotiations, not them—but if they could lay the groundwork with Broken Pine, the whole affair might go much more smoothly. Sometimes when the concepts they were discussing got too complicated for Broken Pine’s command of English, Preacher stepped in to translate them into Crow.

  After a while, Preacher said, “Here’s the thing, boys. Washington wants that treaty so the wagon trains will be protected, but there’s really no reason for those immigrants to be strayin’ this far north. There ain’t no good passes up here, no matter what that damn fool book says.”

  Preacher had explained to Jamie and Tyler about the wagon train he and Hawk had helped save from renegades, as well as the fraudulent volume that had prompted the pilgrims to try to bring their wagons through this area to start with.

  “Are you saying there’s no real need for a treaty?” Tyler asked.

  “That’s the way it seems to me. The problem’s gonna work itself out if folks just leave it alone.”

  Jamie considered that possibility for a moment and then shook his head.

  “From what I’ve seen of government, that’s not going to happen. Those politicians think that if th
ey’re not generating a lot of heat and noise about something or other, they’re not doing their jobs. Worse yet, they believe the voters think that way, too.”

  “‘Much ado about nothin’,” Preacher quoted. “I remember my little pard Audie sayin’ that Shakespeare fella wrote a play called by that name, and it sums up how those varmints in Washington spend their time better’n anything I ever heard.” He shrugged. “But I don’t reckon it’ll hurt anything to have a treaty with the Crow, even if it don’t really help anything, either.”

  As the day went on, the mountain man pointed out various landmarks to them and indicated that these meant they were getting close to the village. Late in the afternoon, the cluster of lodges alongside the little river came into view.

  Preacher reined in and said to Tyler, “You head on back to the wagons and tell Lieutenant Davidson to stop where he is. The troop don’t need to come any closer than that. They can make camp right there.”

  Broken Pine added, “Tell Lieutenant Davidson to come to my lodge this evening. We will eat together, and talk.”

  “All right,” Tyler replied. He glanced at Jamie, who understood the look. Both of them were a little worried about how Davidson was going to handle this. Jamie couldn’t imagine the stiff-necked lieutenant sitting cross-legged on a buffalo robe in a smoky Crow lodge. Maybe Davidson’s ambition would overcome his attitude. He wanted to succeed in this mission, after all. It could be important for his future career.

  Tyler turned back to the wagons while Jamie rode on into the village with the others. All the Crow came out to greet the returning hunting party, and although they were excited about the buffalo meat that had been brought back, they were also curious about the big white man they had never seen before. The children stared openly at Jamie while the women gave him nervous looks, and the warriors who had been left behind frowned warily at him. Broken Pine, Preacher, Hawk, and the others seemed to regard Jamie as a friend, though, so they were willing to accept him—for now.

  The wounded Swift Water’s wife fussed mightily over him and helped him to their lodge. Jamie watched the two of them talking as they made their way slowly through the village. The woman turned her head to look at him. He supposed Swift Water was explaining how he had gotten shot, and who did it.